


Virginity isn't Everything.

by 07icedragon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Past Character Death, Pirates, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/07icedragon/pseuds/07icedragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis never thought he would ever be in his current situation. It was hard to believe it all started over his petty jealousy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Precious to Give.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hetalia. That ownership is fully with Hidekaz Himaruya. This is however, based off of my own weird head cannon so you do not have to like it or read it. I adore France and do not see him the same way a majority of the Fandom does.

It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The tall, lean male thought as he walked down the busy streets towards the harbour. His long blonde hair pulled together at the nape of his neck and held there with a silk pink ribbon. His ocean blue eyes cast down as he walked. It was unusual for this man to ever look down, he usually always walked with his head held high. The heir of confidence thick on his person. Today however, his stomach was in knots. How was he supposed to do this? The question had been plaguing him for a while now. Sure there were a lot of battles he had fought in that were by far worse than his current battle. However, at this precise moment he didn't think any battle ever compared. The Frenchman was sure that what was to come would be the biggest battle of his life. Maybe he was just being dramatic though and it was not as scary as he thought.

Although when he cast his blue eyes forward and saw the white sails in the near distance he didn't think anything was scarier. The Frenchman, also known as one Francis Bonnefoy, or the National personification of France to be exact. Knew that he had done something bad. Sure ever since he could remember he had been doing bad things. He loved everyone and everything. It was in his genetic make-up. However, so was war, famine and disease. Despite all that, he still loved unconditionally, and he never wished, in a million years to break someone's heart. As a Nation, it was expected for feelings to be hurt, and hearts to be wounded in battle, but he still had nightmares about the last big one he was in.

Francis had shattered another Nations heart. Why? Why you ask, because of sheer jealousy. He was jealous that someone he loved so much chose someone else over him. Francis had forgiven this Nation all the blood soaked history they shared and just wanted to love the other. However, when that Nation broke his heart he wanted petty revenge and he took it in the most cruel way. Stealing something very precious from this Nation he called brother. Ever since that battle Francis has not been the same, and finally he decided that he needed to make amends. The Frenchman knew that anything he offered would only enrage the other Nation, so he would have to give something precious to the other and not tell him.

It had been a hard decision to make, but he needed some kind of forgiveness, and even if the Nation always hated him, at least they would each have taken something precious in the most painful way possible. It still wasn't really a fair trade, since the scar Francis left was mental and what he was giving up was physical but it was a start and it was very precious to Francis. Coming to a stop he felt the jacket flutter to rest around his calves. He was wearing a calve length powder blue jacket, with gold trim and pearls. A godly over decorated hat sat atop his head. The white frilly undershirt he wore was made of the finest cotton's and was complimented with the royal blue tunic also embroidered with gold. It was made in a fashion that made it look more like a short dress than a man's tunic but that was the French fashion for you.

Under the tunic he wore the tightest pants imaginable. Something even woman would be scandalised to be seen in, but he pulled it off wonderfully, like he did almost everything he wore. White silk ribbons fastened his long socks in place. The shoes were not the smartest choice for sea travel, but Francis was big on fashion and it was currently the only thing that looked good with the outfit he wore. Perhaps he should have chosen his wardrobe a little better, he thought but quickly pushed the thought aside. After all he had finally arrived. Letting his oceanic blue eyes glaze over the giant vessel that sat in the port. It was a magnificent ship, that was to be expected of the Spanish and the English. This one proudly flew the Union Jack on its mast. Telling all it was a part of the British fleet. However, Francis knew that was a cover, for he had run into that very ship before, only it was flying a pirate flag the last time he saw it.

It was most definitely Kirkland's ship. Arthur Kirkland, also known as the National personification of Great Britain. Casting his gaze to his hands Francis tried to stop the trembling. This was his damn idea, and he would have to be a man and follow through with it. At this moment though with all the eyes on him, and the way he was dressed he felt more like a freaking peacock than a man. Now if Francis wasn't so nervous, he wouldn't have minded looking like a peacock in the least. Seeing as how he was nervous though, he just wanted to crawl into a corner somewhere and hide. Swallowing his fear, Francis lifted his gaze once more and walked down the dock towards where the ship was tied off. Head held high, and a serious expression on his face.

When three men all pulled their cutlasses on him, he just raised his hands in a show of surrender. He was not sure if he liked the way those men were looking at him though. Arthur would need to relax a little and let his men enjoy the wenches more, or there might be mutiny on his ship.

"I wish to Parlay with ze Captain of zis vessel," he said trying his best to make his accent less noticeable. Not because he feared the men knowing, but judging by their appearance they wouldn't have understood a word he said if the accent was heavy.

The first man, a man with greasy dark hair and crooked teeth that looked rotten lowered his cutlass and crossed his arms over his bare chest. The man literally looked like he had never bathed a day in his life, and the smell was only adding to that theory, "Ay, an' where did a land lubber like you hear of the Pirates code?"

Francis was amused by the sheer fact that Arthur had went to all the trouble to conceal his vessel as a British one under the royal navy he sure hadn't learned how to conceal his men. They were obviously pirates. Sometimes Arthur just didn't think things through and that thought made Francis smile. However, that smile seemed to piss off the man who questioned him. "I am no land lubber, as ye be calling me. I know o' Parlay 'cause we, ze French invented eet. Now, be 'onorable to ze code and take me to yer Captain."

"I would appreciate it if ye would not order my crew around as if ye own them Frog!" A deep rough voice said as another tall lean man emerged from the shadows of where he had been sitting on the dock. He was wearing a white silk shirt with ruffles and a pair of tight black pants. A cutlass fastened at his hip. Shaggy blonde hair fell just above his shoulders tied back with a red ribbon. What made Francis shiver, was not the sound of the familiar voice but the hard angry emerald green eyes that burned into his flesh like fire. His pale skin was clean, and the freckles that were nearly invisible dusted his nose and cheeks. Lord but Arthur was attractive, even with his overly large eyebrows. It seemed to make him appear more wild, more masculine. It was a shame Arthur hadn't noticed it himself yet.

Francis was finally able to snap out of his distracted state, "I wish to Parlay wit ye, Captain Kirkland." It came out rather shaky and Francis had to wince at his own ability to verbalise his words. It didn't help that Arthur was looking at him with a mixture of amusement, hatred and curiosity. It was a long silence, at least that was what it felt like. In reality it was no more than a minute or two. Finally Arthur waved a hand absently in the air to let his men know it was okay for the Frenchman to pass. Following Britain onto his ship Francis looked around. It really was a fine vessel. His main focus was Arthur and the Captain's cabin though. It didn't take very long for his curiosity to be sated. When he entered the cabin he needed to give his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim lighting.

The cabin was not very big, but it wasn't small either, in fact he would say that it was about the size of his small closet back home. A cot was set up near the window on the far side of the wall. A desk with a bunch of papers sat directly before him, with two chairs. One behind and one in front of the desk for business dealings. Fine tapestries, and jewels decorated the cabin making it feel more homely. A large red and black jacket hung on the back of the chair behind the desk. The gold embroidery and jewels on the jacket sparkled brightly in the candle light. A black hat similar to Francis's own sat on the corner of the desk but with less decorations decorating it.

Francis had been so lost in his intake of the cabin that he had not noticed when Arthur sat down behind his desk. When the British man cleared his throat in irritation Francis was finally drawn back to him. Arthur gestured for Francis to take a seat across from him. Francis could see that Arthur was really trying to hold back every impulse to throttle him right then. Gracefully walking over to the offered chair Francis took a seat and looked across the desk at Arthur who was waiting for him to speak.

"Well, go on Frog, I am assuming you are here on National business not personal, because you would be a bloody git to show your face around me right now!" The venom in those words made Francis shiver a bit.

"Non, I am 'ere on personal business Art'ur. I would like to apologise. I never wanted to hu---" He was cut off suddenly when Arthur slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you bloody dare, you wanker. I do not want your blasted lie filled apology. Get off my ship right now! Or you will regret it." The warning in Arthur's voice was menacing. Francis cupped his sore cheek in his hand, "Non, I am determined to make zings right, I should noot 'ave 'andled zings ze way I deed. I am noot zorry I 'elped 'im, but I am zorry about 'ow I did it." That statement was meant by Arthur gripping the front of Francis's jacket and hauling him across the desk. Arthur looked crazed with anger and hatred. Francis shivered and wondered if this was a good idea. Provoking Arthur would only make it worse for himself, but he needed to make things even.

"I told ye to shut up," Arthur growled and back handed Francis hard enough to knock the man to the floor. Storming around his desk, Arthur hauled Francis back to his feet by the jacket. Throwing the Frenchman back against his desk. The sudden shove, as well as the height of the desk made Francis fall backwards on it. Arthur followed him and slapped him again. "If you hadn't have gotten involved I would still have him. He was mine damn it. How dare you take him from me. You and that damn Prussian. I will make you suffer," Arthur swore as he threw Francis from his desk onto the floor once more. "Get out of my sight. Tis yer last warning."

Francis stood up and dusted himself off. His lip split and a little bit of blood was running from the cut down his chin. "I will noot." Francis said defiantly. He would not give in to what his brain was screaming at him. He wanted to run from the Pirate across from him. Francis didn't like pain at all but he was inviting it and would not stop until he finished what he came to do. "If ye want me off yer ship ye will 'ave ta force me off." At that Arthur smirked darkly as he asked, "Do ye have a death wish? Do ye not think I will?"

"Non, I do noot 'ave a death wish an' eet is noot zat I zink ye would not, but more zat I want ye to do wut ever ye wants until ye are satisfied." It took almost all of Francis's courage to say those words. He was willing to put up with everything, and anything until Arthur was satisfied, till Arthur was finished with him. Arthur just stared at Francis in disbelief. The frog was bloody mad. He lost his mind and literally went mad. Arthur couldn't believe it. Some of the fire in him died from Francis's words. If Arthur beat him up, he would be doing exactly what the bloody git wanted and Arthur didn't want to give Francis anything he wanted. "Just leave already, you are making me sick."

"Non," Francis shook his head in refusal making Arthur angry again. "Look, I know you are slow and stupid, but I do not wish to stare at your ugly face, so get off my ship now Francis!" The warning was deadly but still Francis refused. Arthur enraged grabbed the glass bottle holding the rum and threw it across the room at Francis's head. The bottle shattered against the wall beside the Frenchman's head. Glass flew everywhere but still Francis didn't move even though he was trembling on the inside. A small cut started to bleed down his left cheek from where the glass sliced him. Arthur was furious and stood up. The final warning in his glare. Francis was not sure where he found the bravado to do what he did but his hands started moving on their own.

Arthur was taken aback when he watched Francis remove his jacket. Watched the blue material fall in waves like a fantasy waterfall and pool around his feet. Arthur watched as Francis slowly and daftly removed the fastenings for his tunic and let that to fall to the cabins floor. It didn't take a genius to figure things out from there. Arthur smirked condescendingly at Francis. "So the truth comes out. That is all you wanted. Francis you are such a bloody whore." The words were harsh and they hurt. Making Francis stop in his removal of his clothes. Everyone believed him to be a whore, so it wasn't that big of a shock, but hearing it from someone he cared about was different. Seeing his paused movements Arthur made an irritated sound and angrily walked over to Francis dragging him back over to the desk. "If this is all you want, let's get this over with," Arthur snapped as he bent Francis over his desk roughly.

"Attendez!" Francis cried out as he felt Arthur pull his trousers down around his knees, "Please noot like zis. I want to face you." Arthur gaped at the back of Francis's head and shook it in irritation, "If I remember correctly you said I could do anything I pleased, and that I said I would not like to see your ugly face. So you will shut up, get what you want and I will not have to look at you. We both win." Arthur's words were harsh but not as harsh as his fingers were as he pushed them inside Francis. Arthur was shocked at how tight and tense the man was. He would have to use oil or butter to ease the passage. Oil was the closest thing to him so he figured he would use that. Soaking his fingers in the greasy substance he moved them in and out easier. Startling slightly at Francis's pained gasp. Really the man was hopeless and a baby.

Francis was mortified. Being so cruelly taken in this way. Granted Britain was nice enough to lubricate when he noticed that Francis was tight. A blessing Francis was sure, but he knew from the cruel thrusting that Arthur still didn't clue in. A sob broke from his throat on a gasp. He hadn't meant to make a noise. He was trying to be quiet like Arthur wanted him to be. The irritated grunt from Arthur did not escape Francis's notice. Neither did the added finger. Lord it hurt like hell. Francis had no idea why men liked to do this with each other. He was curious about it for a while when he heard about noble men taking a boy lover. He had never partook in that though because of how religious France as a Nation was. He saw it sinful, but here he was under Britain creating a very sinful act under the eyes of god. It was the only thing he could give Britain though for what he took. America had meant a lot to Britain, just like Francis's innocence meant to him.

Sure Francis had partook in sleeping with a wench here and there, but everyone did it and the king had said it was fine, that those woman would not sully him so long as he went to the confessionals after each act. So he had. This was his first time with a man though, at least in this way. He had been married to other male Nations before, but they had never done anything sexual once they learned Francis was a boy. Francis had been one hundred percent okay with that though so it wasn't a big deal. This was in Francis's eyes. It was his first time like this. All innocence his soul had would be gone when England finished. He just hoped it would be over soon. All Arthur had to do was finger him to climax right. They wouldn't join like a man and a woman? There was no way Arthur would fit. He was too damn big.

Arthur had inserted his third finger and continued to work on Francis. He had yet to find the other man's prostate. Curling his fingers a bit he brushed something and Francis tensed letting out a very wanton moan. Smirking to himself Arthur continued to stroke that flesh over and over making Francis dizzy with pleasure. Francis was sure he was going to hell, but right then he didn't care. He felt his own member start to twitch to life and grow. It only took Arthur five minutes after finding the prostate to bring Francis to orgasm. The Frenchman was so happy it was over he relaxed instantly. Only to have his eyes shoot open when he felt a white hot pain fill him. Crying out he tensed again and muffled his sobs. Damn it hurt. What had Arthur just put inside him.

"Bloody hell, so tight. Relax a little." Arthur snapped as he leaned over France. "You moaned like a pro a few moments ago, you can stop trying to hide your wanton behaviour. I know you like cock," Arthur purred darkly and pulled Francis's earlobe into his mouth to suck and nibble on, "You love me inside of you, I can feel your ass pulling me deeper." Francis moaned, he couldn't help it. He was turned on, as shameful as that was he was feeling it. The blush on his cheeks would have been a dead giveaway if Arthur had taken him the other way. Francis was kind of grateful for that now. The hard deep seated thrust sent a bolt of electricity up Francis's spine and he moaned loudly unable to muffle his cry of pleasure. It was so different from bedding a woman.

"Ay there it is," Arthur laughed eerily against Francis's ear. "I can see why men lust after ye. Yer ass is tighter than sin and you moan better than most seasoned whores in bed." Francis shivered and moaned again when Arthur thrust forward. Damn but the Brit could plow something fierce. Francis was worried he would split in half, it felt that way anyways. He wasn't sure what to do, but that changed in the next instant when Arthur pulled him up into a semi sitting position. "Brace ye hands on the table and spread yer legs farther apart." Arthur instructed as he guided Francis to his desired position. Francis was sure his face was as red as one of Spain's famous tomatoes when he was positioned like a brood mare.

He didn't have much time to think on it though because Arthur took that moment to finally get a rhythm going. Pounding into Francis was easier now that the Frenchman had stretched enough. When Arthur angled himself a little bit so he would hit the prostate Francis nearly collapsed. His knees trembling. "A-ahhh," he gasped and bit his lower lip. Francis was certain he was going to hell for this. "A-Art'ur," he moaned his accent thick. "More, I need more."

Arthur slid on hand down and squeezed Francis's member, "I will not make this easy for you," he swore as he pounded Francis relentlessly into the desk. After every moan, cry, gasp, plea, Arthur smile grew more cruel and his thrusting became more violent. Francis couldn't tell the pain from the pleasure anymore. He was so hard, but Arthur wouldn't let him cum. It finally got to the point where Francis started begging in his native tongue.

"S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît Arthur. Permettez-moi de sperme. Il se sent trop bon." The plea was desperate and tear filled not that Arthur saw it as he continued his violent ravishing. In response to Francis's plea he just said, "English git, and call me Captain Kirkland!"

Francis sobbed in his sexual frustration and moaned. He couldn't catch his breath with Arthur's actions. It was hard to think. So his plea was broken up between his crys of pleasure. "I beg ye Captain," he moaned curling his fingers against the mahogany wood of Arthur's desk. "Please, please," he gasped when the hand on his cock tightened. "Let me cum," the plea was again cut off by more moaning as Arthur wrapped his free hand in Francis's hair and pulled his head back, "Did ye just order yer Captain?" he demanded his question. Francis shivered and cried out, "Sacré bleu." Arthur thrust a little more harshly causing Francis to whimper, "Non Captain," he panted as Arthur continued at his unbelievable pace. It really wasn't an unbelievable pace but this was all new to Francis. He had never been a catcher before. "I would noot dare ta order ye aboot."

"That’s a good lass," Arthur mocked as he left bites along Francis's neck. "What do ye suppose I want ye ta do lass?" Arthur asked a cruel glint in his eyes. Francis knew what Arthur wanted without having to see the man's face. He was a rotten brute, and Francis hoped he rotted for making him this way. Swallowing his pride he sobbed tears of humiliation and frustration. "Captain Kirkland, Ye are so big, I 'ave never 'ad someone so big before," It was not a lie, but still having to play this twisted game of his was getting to be too much. "I fear zat soon I may burst if ye don' let me cum." He could feel the amusement rumble from Arthur's chest against his back. "Please, make me cum Grande-Bretagne."

Arthur had amused himself greatly. He hadn't expected Francis to play along at all. It seemed the man really did want forgiveness. Unfortunately one bout of intimacy in his cabin was not going to mend any bridges. Arthur was still pissed off and would remain that way for a long time. He was not sure if he would ever forgive Francis. Though making the Frenchman crazy with need was very enjoyable. He envied his brother Scotland and other men who had tasted Francis before him. Arthur hated to admit it even to himself but he was very possessive over Francis. He hated seeing Francis around other Nations. Especially those two friends of his. Now that he was buried inside Francis he didn't know how he would ever be able to get rid of that possessive streak. It felt like it was growing not fading. When Francis cried out his Nation's name he was done. Arthur liked hearing his human name, but when it came to Francis and begging he loved hearing the man beg all of Britain.

Deciding to take pity on his childhood rival Arthur let go of his painful grip on Francis's cock. Francis moaned very erotically when his member was finally free causing Arthur to groan. "Ye are a blasted siren, I hate you so damn much," Arthur growled sending Francis hurling over the edge. Feeling Francis constrict around him pushed Arthur over as well. He let himself fill Francis before pulling out and wiping his cock clean. Francis slumped against the desk before gradually sinking to the floor. His pants around his ankles and his shirt the only thing keeping his body covered. Traces of blood were on the back of his thighs as was Arthur's seed. Though neither could see that right now in Francis's current position. Arthur put himself back inside his trousers before fetching his coin purse and dumping the contents on Francis. "Thank ye for yer services. They will no longer be required. Payment in full, once ye get dressed and cleaned up, please leave my ship at once and do not show yer face to me again."

With that Arthur left a very shocked and outraged Francis alone in his cabin.


	2. Something Precious to Take.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reflects on the fact that he still had something that could be taken from him. He was just too stubborn to actually admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hetalia, I just write FanFiction to pass time and because I enjoy it. Most of my Hetalia works are based around my head canon for France. Some are not, but most are. I would like to thank all of you who have left Kudos. I appreciate it a lot. You give me encouragement to write more. If you feel like leaving comments I love to read them. They help me with over coming writers block through sheer motivation. Thank you all for being you.

Arthur was an idiot. A complete idiot who really needed to learn when to stop. Never in his entire life had he been so furious with himself. It was funny because when he thought about how ended up in his current situation, he could remember where it all started. It had started on the very first day he had ever met the deceptive flirt known as Francis Bonnefoy. They had been but children, Arthur had left the house he shared with his siblings. He had grown tired of always being the target of his older brothers hurtful teasing and decided that he would play with his fairy friends. He had not expected to stumble across a beautiful sleeping girl a little older than himself. Arthur thought she was beautiful, he remembered watching her sleep. Soft shoulder length blonde curls, pale skin and rose red lips. Her golden eyelashes fanned her cheeks and Arthur felt his heart beat quicken.

When the girl had woken up and turned her breathtaking ocean blue eyes towards him he had to blush. He was caught staring, and at the time Arthur had wished to be a knight. It was what he was most excited about. The sleeping girl was his maiden, he wanted to be gallant and rescue her, but she didn't appear to need rescuing. When she opened her mouth to speak he instantly frowned. French. She was French. Knowing that put a bit of a damper on things, what with Britain not liking France and all it was in his nature. The girl was beautiful though regardless of her heritage and even though she spoke with a thick accent Arthur thought her voice was like magic. Francis had seen the fairies then, when he was but a child, only as he aged did he start to forget their existence. Arthur would admit that he had a very strong crush on Francis as they spent more time together it only began to grow.

Arthur had so many plans. He planned on becoming a knight and marrying Francis. He didn't care if she was the personification of who his county hated most. Arthur loved her and desired her greatly. His dreams had once again been crushed by his stupid older brother Scotland who married France first. The Auld Alliance they called it. It was enough to make Arthur sick. Francis was his, he wouldn't let his brother have her without a fight. However, he had been deceived. News of the wedding night had been buzzing around the keep all morning. Arthur was happy when he heard that Scotland drunk himself to sleep and the wedding was never solidified. He still had a chance to take Francis back. Then he heard why his brother drank himself in to unconsciousness. The bride had been a man. Arthur couldn't believe it.

His beautiful maiden was a man. It was a crime against god and the church to have feelings for men. France was the same way, the fact that Francis had deceived all of them had been a sin against everything. Arthur was enraged, he had been angry with Francis before, but not like this. His anger at the other man he grew up with raged. Wars began and lasted over one hundred years. As the war raged on he had started to forgive Francis for lying to him. If the Frenchman repented than god would forgive him and Arthur was willing to forgive him as well. Hell maybe they could be friends. Then that woman came along. Heresy was spoken. It spread through France like wild fire, and Arthur was enraged once more. He wanted France to repent for all of its sins. His church even managed to convince the French church to see reason. Arthur had not been jealous of the woman who could have been a female version of himself with emerald green eyes, short blonde hair and a childlike innocence that was tarnished by war. He was not jealous that Francis was obviously head over heels. He was most certainly not jealous.

When his church burned her for her crimes against god. Francis had lashed out. Arthur had never seen the man so distraught. He regretted it immediately. He hated seeing the expression on Francis's face. It ate away at him like a festering disease. Things had ended though and as time passed, old wounds healed slightly and they began talking again. It really improved when they could have a conversation without exchanging blows. Arthur was still mad at Francis for his deceptive, and perverse ways, but he knew that Francis was also mad at him. It was a infinite circle. Never ending. They would forever be stuck in this loop. Arthur had enjoyed that thought, if only for a while. More wars happened over time, on a much smaller scale, and with less heat. It wasn't until Arthur got America that he started to forget about the Frenchman all together.

Francis had also come across Canada around that time, and both of them raised the boys together for a while, at least until things got hostile again. Arthur took Canada, or little Mathieu as Francis called him away. America, or Alfred as Arthur called him had started to rebel at this time. Arthur was not sure what possessed them to band together and oppose him but they did. His little Alfred and that deceptive frog banned together and fought him for America's independence. They had done it to hurt him, Arthur told himself as he fought tooth and nail to keep what was his. However, in the end it was a shattering defeat. Arthur hadn't known how much the child meant to him until he was taken from him. The Prussian, also known as Gilbert would die alongside Francis one day for the pain they caused him by assisting the American.

Arthur remembers that, a lot of bad stuff happened around that time. After the Revolution he took up piracy under the new queen. The only good thing he could remember about that time was the wedding. It had been done before, but it was the first time for him and he loved her very much. Arthur married the Queen of England, he never slept with her though for he loved her so much he did not wish to tarnish her chastity. The thing he most regrets about this time in his history is the day Francis appeared before him and parlayed with him. Arthur was so furious, he had let his emotions run wild. Living among the members at court it was not unheard of for lords to take boys to bed. Not young boys but like 16 year old's. He never really thought about bedding a man before but it was apparently an 'in' thing. So he bedded a few boys all 16 or older. So when Francis stood in his cabin and started stripping he felt an old lust spike.

As a child he had heroic and romantic feelings towards Francis, but denied them. As the years and wars piled up he found himself on more than one occasion wanting to fuck the man into submission. He wanted to tame Francis. Now seeing the man strip in front of him brought back those possessive feelings. Knowing that Francis had been with Scotland, and his 'best friends' angered Arthur, but not as much as the knowledge that the bastard probably slept with his Alfred during the revolution. It was one of the reasons Arthur had been so rough. His feelings were torn between wanting to be gentle and wanting to kill the man beneath him. What he hadn't expected was the tightness, or the responses he pulled from Francis. The man was addictive. Arthur wanted to never leave once he entered. If he could die, he would choose to do so inside Francis, it was tight, warm and felt so damn good.

During his entire pirate phase he found himself seeking out the Frenchman's vessels just so he could blow them up and fuck Francis over his desk repeatedly. He even had a tumble with Spain, that tumble was very painful though and Arthur preferred not to go back. They had both been very aggressive. It wasn't until news of his wife's death came that Arthur hung up his hat and put on the gentleman role. He had not slept with Francis at all during that time frame, but there had been others. It wasn't until his punk phase, that he took the Frenchman to bed once more. This time he let Francis top. It had been sickly sweet. Francis was always sickly sweet about everything. It was one of the reasons that Arthur cheated on him with Alfred during the short time they dated. Francis had also increased his number of sexual partners by this point in time. He never turned down an offer, if someone wanted to intimate with him, he was ready to go.

World War 2 happened then. Arthur remembered the satisfaction of Francis finally getting what was coming to him, but at the same time, that possessive nature had only grown more since his pirate phase. No one could have Francis, Francis belonged to him. He was not jealous of others, but he was not going to hand over what belonged to him. France was Britain's and that was all there was to it. Arthur had expected a little gratitude from Francis when the war ended. Expected the frog to tear up and get all clingy. Instead he watched as Francis cried over his fallen friend. A man who had helped invade him. It pissed Arthur off, Francis was supposed to be in his dept. but he was all love sick over the man whose whole reason for existing was just dissolved. What made no sense to any of them was how Gilbert was still alive and kicking even though he was technically gone. No one knew what happened, but Arthur suspected. He was sure Gilbert's existence and Francis's amnesia were connected.

His fears, though he would never admit they were fears, finally came to pass when Gilbert started to age and Francis suddenly remembered everything. Francis had played with magic, magic he had not understood, and had not done correctly. It could have killed him, and that angered Arthur more than he thought it would. A year later Arthur realised how much of an idiot he was when he got a wedding invitation in the mail. His Francis, beautiful, deceptive Francis was getting married. He couldn't do that. Arthur would not let him do that. He objected to the marriage whole heartily and even told Gilbert where he could shove his oversized ego. The Albino just smiled at him and said one things.

"Francis is free to do as he pleases. He is not mine, nor is he yours. However, he has given himself to me in every way for the length of one human life. What is that compared to eternity."

Arthur was at a loss for words. Gilbert was right though. What was 40 or 50 years to a nation who could live for thousands. So he decided to humour Gilbert and the time he had left. He was the biggest idiot alive. He didn't notice it right away, he never saw it, but he had to admit he loved Francis, and now he lost him. Not physically, for Francis was very much still alive and well, but as they stood at Gilbert's grave and he watched Francis he knew the most precious thing had been taken from him.

Francis's heart.


	3. Someone to Love, Honor and Cherish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:: Okay so, this is the final chapter sorry for the delay. I do not own Hetalia. I hope you all enjoy the final chapter. Warning this has another Character Death. Characters may not be as in character as they are supposed to be, but it is Fan Fiction so deal with it.

**"Papa, can you tell us the story again?"** Mathieu asked Francis from his place on the floor. Kneeling on a red cushion beside the older male who sat in a dark brown leather recliner. Francis looked from Mathieu's dreamy expression to Alfred's slightly bemused expression. The American was not a romantic dreamer like Mathieu but he liked hearing the action in the stories. Arthur ignored the three men in his living room as he drank his tea and enjoyed the book he was currently reading. The Brit was not completely oblivious to the conversation that was happening but he didn't care about it. It was a story they had heard enough times. Arthur was just happy that for once in his life everything was perfect.

 

Francis smiled fondly from the two boys who were sitting/kneeling on the floor around him. **"I have told this story many times already. You sure you don't want to hear something else?"** he asked and tried not to laugh at Mathieu's crestfallen expression. The boy was just like Francis. A true romantic at heart. The American just shrugged so Francis took a deep breath before getting comfortable.

 

 **"It started seven years ago."** The sadness in Francis's eyes was invisible to all except Arthur who knew that this part of the story always hurt the man. He wished he had told the boys to give Francis a break but he just couldn't bring himself to. Instead he would have to comfort the frog later. **"After Gilberts funeral. I was distraught. For the first time in my life I understood fully why Romeo and Juliet died together. I didn't want to be without him."** Even as Francis started the story everyone gave a moment of silence for their deceased friend. Mathieu knew the story got better, but in order to understand it he knew his papa had to explain why he was depressed. **"I began to drink heavily, not caring if I showed up to important events wasted out of my mind. I was inconsolable."**

 

Arthur looked up over the top of his book in order to watch Francis. He didn't like seeing the male so upset over someone who wasn't himself. He wished that he had caused the pain. He would prefer the anger over the look in Francis's eyes. Their eyes met during the break and Francis smiled fondly at Arthur, **"It wasn't until I finally tried to kill myself that Arthur couldn't take it anymore and blew up. He handled things like he always did. With anger and frustration."** The look Arthur shot Francis made the Frenchman smile and wink at him. Shaking his head Arthur went back to reading, as Francis continued with his tale. It was somewhere around the middle of the tale that he excused himself to get more tea. He really didn't need any but he always got flustered when this part of the story came up. He didn't like showing his gentler side, and yet both Mathieu and Alfred knew about it now.

 

When he returned to the room he saw how Francis had tiredly adjusted himself before finishing his tale. Arthur was confused, he had not been in the kitchen that long and yet Francis was already near the end of his tale. Maybe the Frenchman was worn out.

 

 **"Alright, time for you both to head home or go to bed. I know you are both adults now, but my house my rules,"** Arthur said as he made his presence in the room known once more.

 

Francis looked up at the other old nation with a look of gratitude. He was tired and exhausted but he had no will power when it came to Alfred and Mathieu. Arthur watched with a slight frown as Francis shakily stood up. He wondered if the males economy was bad, or if the nation itself was not doing so well. Arthur would never admit out loud that he was worried about the other male but he was. Seeing the French man hug the other two nation, Arthur walked forward and also gave the two boys a hug. Mathieu had an audience with his boss first thing in the morning and Alfred wanted to grab a new video game that was coming out so both young males decided they would go home.

 

Arthur looked saddened slightly. He loved when the boys visited but he was always sad to see them go. He always felt very lonely. Looking over at Francis he smiled slightly and pulled the male into a gentle embrace. At least he had Francis. Francis took the loneliness he felt away. Arthur loved and hated the other male, a fine line between the two emotions. One he had to figure out the hard way, but even though there relationship took centuries to figure out. He would not change anything for the world.

 

 **"Lets head to bed love,"** Arthur said as he gently rubbed the back of Francis's hands. They were colder than he ever remembered.

 

Francis smiled his dazingly bright smile which always managed to distract Arthur, **"I would like that, I am very tired."**

 

Arthur guided Francis upstairs to there bedroom. It was a slow process and he didn't know why, but he had a nagging urge to hold the other male. He had no idea why. He slowly unbuttoned Francis's shirt. Placing his warm hands to the French man's chest and slowly letting them guide the other males shirt off. Francis had just smiled at Arthur which used to piss him off, but tonight Arthur smiled back.

 

 **"May I hold you tonight?"** he asked which was normally out of character for him. It showed on Francis's face.

 

France thought a moment before he nodded, **"I would like that,"** he said. Normally the two would waste hours arguing about who would be on top, than they would fight and end up in a passionate battle for dominance. Not tonight.

 

When Francis nodded Arthur moved in and gently kissed the other male. Letting his hands wander over the others body. Guiding Francis backwards towards the bed he eased the male down onto the mattress. Slowly unclasping the others pants. Gently pushing the fabric down. Arthur smiled and slightly snorted when he realised France was going commando. It was so like the other male.

 

 **"Already thinking we would get here?"** Arthur teased and was taken aback by the light blush that appeared on Francis's face. He was truly beautiful and Arthur for the first time in many years, realized just how much he loved the man under him. **"I love you,"** he said and hid his face against Francis's neck.

 

Francis smiled but it didn't fully reach his eyes, **"I know, I love you to,"** he said and he meant it. He had loved Arthur for a very long time. He regretted all the wasted years. He never regretted his time with Gilbert, but he did regret a lot of other things. **"I am sorry,"** he whispered.

 

Arthur looked into the other males face again, **"Why are you sorry?"** he asked worry flashing in his emerald green eyes.

 

 **"I am sorry we couldn't be like this sooner,"** Francis clarified, **"Sorry that we were lonely for so long."**

 

Arthur smiled at Francis, **"You should be damn frog!"** he stated and than kisses the other, **"I am sorry to."**

 

Arthur for the next several hours proceeded to make love with Francis. They enjoyed each other over and over again. Francis had come undone under him and Arthur had truly felt happy. Not because of the power surge or the dominance, but because he was able to make Francis feel how much love he had for the man. They had fallen asleep after that. Wrapped around each other.

 

_~*~4 days later!~*~_

 

It was raining again. Something that had been happening non-stop for days now. It had been raining on that day too. Arthur looked down at his black shoes. Mathieu standing slightly behind him holding a black umbrella with red rimmed eyes. They walked in a line of other nations. All dressed in black following the procession. Alfred, Ludwig, Ivan and Turkey were all carrying a large black and silver coffin. Arthur remembered it like it was forever engraved behind his eyelids. They had embraced truly as one for the first time. He was happy, Francis was happy. He had no idea that when he woke up the other would be gone. Francis had died in his arms during the night. He had been sick for a long while but never told anyone.

 

It was a cruel revenge, Arthur had been furious, than sad, and now he was just depressed. He understood how Francis felt when Gilbert passed. He didn't ever want to feel that way but here he was devastated. His pride as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland would not let him cry in front of the other nations though. So he followed the procession for a while with a very emotionless expression. He stood as Francis was buried, and until only he, Mathieu and Alfred were left at the gave. Spain had been the last one besides them to stay.

 

Alfred had looked at Arthur and Mathieu before he finally managed to speak, **"We have to head back to our own nations to figure out what to do next,"** he explained to Arthur as he took Mathieu by the hand. France was weak since the personification died. If the replacement was found the nation to find it would hold a lot of power. A lot of other nations had already made plans to invade. Alfred included, his boss was not willing to let Russia get any more power. Arthur had been disgusted by the fact that Francis had only been gone four days and everyone wanted to invade his lands in order to gain power.

 

Arthur did not say anything or look up when they left. He just stood in the rain staring at the grave, **"You bloody fucking git."** His voice cracked with sorrow and tears started to fall but were masked by the rain.

 

 **"How can you write me a letter, telling me everything and than just go and die on me. That is cheating, you can't do that to someone."** he bit out angrily. He finally knew that Francis had been a virgin there first time, no one had touched him before and Arthur had been so cruel to him. Virginity wasn't everything, Francis was everything and he fucked up. He was always fucking up. Falling to his knees he let the tears continue to fall as long as they wanted to. Arthur was soaked right through and after the bout of screaming he did he finally stood up.

 

 **"I won't let them hurt you anymore. I don't care if my boss or the people do not like my decision. I will protect you from invasion. I will find your new vessel and I will protect it with my life. Until we meet again."** It was a sworn oath to a dead man, but Arthur's honor and pride would see that he kept it. He turned from the muddy grave and with a set stance, walked away. Leaving nothing but a single white rose on top of the grave.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I used google translate for the French so I am sorry if it is not accurate. Also I am not the best at Spelling and Grammar but I tried. That is what editors and betas are for. Two things I do not have currently.


End file.
